Family Dinner
by Batsutousai
Summary: Maes agrees to have dinner with Gracia's parents, which doesn't turn out at all like he'd expected.


**Title:** _Family Dinner_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist_  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Teen  
 **Pairings:** Gracia/Maes Hughes  
 **Warnings:** Meet the family, deceased characters  
 **Summary:** Maes agrees to have dinner with Gracia's parents, which doesn't turn out at all like he'd expected.

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

 **A/N:** For FMA Rarepair Week on tumblr. Today's prompts included _"So, dinner with my parents on Friday?"_.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

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Gracia had never had anything bad to say about her parents, always smiled when she talked about them. She seemed to think they would like Maes, but that didn't really help with the nerves that he'd been suffering since she'd said, on Sunday night, "So, dinner with my parents on Friday?"

His rather fumbling response – completely caught off guard; she was the only person he knew who could consistently leave him wrong-footed without seeming to try – had been something along the lines of, "They're in town?" Because she'd told him fairly early on that they lived far from Central, hence the reason he hadn't met them yet, even though they're been dating for almost three years. (Three years and four months, if you counted trading letters in Ishval, which, well, Maes tried not to think too much about Ishval, for the sake of his own sanity.)

Her smile had been a little odd for a moment, but she'd nodded and agreed, "They are. So?"

"I– O-of course," Maes had agreed, stumbling a bit.

Her brilliant, grateful smile had been worth every hint of embarrassment, and he'd smiled back and told himself it would _fine_.

A self-promise which had lasted approximately until he'd woken up the next morning and started running all the scenarios where he completely screwed everything up.

Roy, when he'd rang him, hadn't been impressed. But, then, Roy was rarely impressed with Maes' troubles – if he'd just _date someone_ , instead of sleeping with anything and everything with a pretty smile, he might be a bit more sympathetic – so that had hardly been anything new. He was also, of course, the very best friend Maes could ask for, because he'd listened with a minimum of irritated noises as Maes explained everything via word vomit.

Only once Maes had managed to stop spewing panic, did Roy say – in that perfectly bland tone that he probably intended to convey 'you're an _idiot_ ', but was actually soothing – _"Hughes, if Gracia says they'll love you, they'll love you."_ And then, in a slightly meaner tone, he added, _"Trust is something you two are just going to have to work out on your own."_

"It's not that I _don't_ trust her–" Maes tried to explain.

 _"You simply have to find something to overthink and panic about?"_ Roy offered in his bland tone.

Maes opened his mouth to complain about how Roy was the _worst_ friend ever, and then he stopped and thought about what he'd just said. "Oh," he heard himself say as he realised that, okay, Roy probably had a point about the overthinking and panicking thing. Although, that was mostly because Maes wasn't used to being the one going out into the field with only the intel someone else had gathered for him.

...and now he was using military terms to make sense of his reaction and calm down.

"Why are we friends?" he had to ask.

 _"Because I'm the only one who can put up with you,"_ was Roy's immediate response. Like he'd been waiting to use that line for _forever_.

Maes grinned, cheered, and pointed out, "That goes both ways, Roy."

Roy snorted, then there came the sound of paper ruffling, loud enough to suggest Roy had done it purposefully. _"Are you done panicking for today? I have work to do."_

" _Not_ do," Maes corrected.

 _"Enjoy your_ _ **date**_ _, Hughes,"_ Roy shot right back, because the Flame Alchemist was incapable of taking a teasing comment lying down.

"I'll be sure to ring you and tell you all about it as soon as I get home!" Maes promised, then quickly hung up before Roy could complain. (Because, okay, playful one-upmanship would _always_ be a part of their friendship.)

The talk with Roy got him through the rest of the week, though looking over his suit options Friday night dispelled the remainder of the calm.

What did people normally wear the first time they met their girlfriend's parents? Probably not any of Maes' options. They were all so... _loud_. (He could almost hear Roy laughing at him; he'd always mocked Maes' fashion sense.) Gracia didn't mind his clothing – enjoyed it, actually; he'd actually bought a couple shirts just for the way her eyes lit up and she started laughing, because she was _stunning_ when she was delighted – but her _parents_ –

'Trust her,' Roy had said. Or, well, what he'd _meant_. Gracia said they'd love him, in spite of how loud and exuberant he could get when he was excited about something. (Her. He was _always_ excited about her. Her smile, her laugh, the way the streetlamps made the little specks of brown in her green eyes turn gold.) Surely, his fashion was more of the same. Tolerable, if not preferable.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, then pulled out Gracia's favourite of his shirts: Purple and orange swirls forming a sort of optical illusion. (She liked to trace the swirls with her fingers when they were out in public, a hint of mischief in her eyes, because she totally knew what the teasing touch did to Maes.)

Still, he pulled out his black trousers and jacket to go with the shirt, instead of the blue jacket he usually wore with that shirt, because that _sort_ of made him look less...flighty.

When Gracia opened the door to her flat, she gave him an odd sort of look, attention very obviously on his jacket. But she didn't say anything about his clothing, just held out a wicker basket and a blanket and said, "I thought a picnic dinner would be best."

"Sounds like an excellent plan," Maes agreed, even if the idea left him feeling a little overdressed.

She smiled and handed him the blanket, swatted his hand away when he reached to take the basket, then stepped quickly to take the lead, calling back, "Don't let me leave you behind!"

Maes took a moment to enjoy the pale green dress she was wearing – not quite knee-length; he wondered if her father would comment on it – then hurried to catch up when he realised she'd stopped to shoot him a knowing look over her shoulder.

He distracted himself from wondering about the coming meeting by asking after her day. She regaled him with the story of a young man who had come into the bakery she worked at looking to buy anything with chocolate or carrots that they had. Apparently, his pregnant wife had insisted on chocolate and carrots, and the bakery had been the closest thing to their flat, and he needed to head for work, so it had been his only option.

"Did you make her a chocolate carrot cake?" Maes had to ask, laughing at the mental image of the harried man.

"We did tell him to have her stop by later if she needed more," Gracia admitted, her whole face shining with amusement. "She did, but mostly to thank us, and get a little something for them both tonight."

" _That_ ," Maes insisted, "is love. Right there." (He wondered if Roy would kill him for sharing the story. Probably. Something to keep in store for the next time they needed to ensure the line wasn't being listened to.)

Gracia laughed and squeezed his hand. "It is," she agreed.

Maes tugged on her hand to make her stop walking, then leant down to steal a quick kiss, not quite sure how to explain just _how much_ he wanted that sort of future with her. Racing to get her exactly what she wanted in that moment, even if it made him late to work. Knowing she'd be there when he got home, waiting with a gift that was a little bit of a 'thank you' and a lot of an 'I love you'.

She was smiling when he straightened, soft and understanding, and he knew he didn't have to find words, not for that, because she already knew.

"Come on," she said quietly, squeezing his hand again, and he let her lead him on, smiling.

When she turned into the small graveyard, Maes almost baulked, confused, because a graveyard was no place for–

"Oh," he breathed, and her smile, when she glanced back at him, was a terrible, sad sort of smile. Something a little bit older, a wound that had scarred over, and he couldn't decide if it was better or worse that he hadn't known, that he'd held to his private promise that he wouldn't go looking up information on her.

"Mum was sick for a long time," she said as she pulled a torch out of the basket and clicked it on, then used it to show the way through the silent headstones. "About two weeks before we met, she finally died. Dad followed her the day before we met."

He remembered that day with the sort of clarity that everyone should remember the day they met the love of their life. She'd looked so worn-down, tired in a way that Maes hadn't known, not yet. He hadn't been able to resist a stupid joke, hoping to maybe get a quick smile, like his stupid jokes so often got. Except he hadn't just got a smile, but a full-on laugh. And she'd looked surprised at herself, and then her face had lit up with such _happiness_ , and she'd thanked him. For 'reminding me how to smile'.

"It had been so hard, so depressing, and everyone around me was trying to be sympathetic, checking up on me, telling me they understood or would be happy to listen, if I ever needed to talk. And then–" she smiled back at him, still a little sad, but fond, too "–there was you. With your little jokes and your colourful shirts. I hadn't even known I'd needed that. That I'd needed someone who didn't know, didn't expect me to start crying at any reminder of them."

She stopped in front of two graves: Lucinda and Gregory. "It's funny, how it gets harder and harder to tell the truth, the longer you've been telling a lie."

Maes stared down at the two graves, his chest aching, because he knew something of hiding away memories you didn't want to face. "I guess," he offered, squeezing her hand, "they really were far away."

"Yes." She sighed and the circle of light the torch cast drooped a bit. "I should have told you sooner. But it was...nice. Pretending they were still here."

"I know that feeling," Maes offered, because his parents had been dead for years.

Gracia gently untangled their fingers. "Is it weird to have a picnic dinner in a graveyard?" she asked, looking a bit uncertain.

Maes considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Probably." And then he took the blanket off his arm and spread it out in front of the two graves.

Gracia kissed his cheek in thanks, and they both knelt to unpack the basket. And she told him a bit more about her parents – the truth – and he told her a bit more about his own while they ate by torchlight.

And maybe it _was_ a little weird, but it suited them both.

(And Roy's reaction to him saying they'd had dinner in the graveyard had been everything he'd hoped for.)

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End file.
